


Idlewild

by Sealachii



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Smaug never happened, and maybe a crack ship, fixed that lifespan issue, help me imma die this fic will consume me from the inside out, i dont know whats gonna happen honestly, warning mild incest may or may not happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:11:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealachii/pseuds/Sealachii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where the inhabitants of middle earth were blessed with dominion over certain elements </p><p>When the land around Erebor withers and has been plagued by vermin and many foul things for many a year, the dwarrows that dwell in the lonely mountain are forced to seek any means necessary to save their home from complete corruption. For this purpose are the hobbits brought (them who are favored by Yavanna, whose mere presence heals the strains of the earth).</p><p>(Its almost a shame how none could anticipate the consequences of such an action. Almost.)<br/>ON HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> lets get this party started  
> *gun shot, gun shot, cash register noise* 
> 
> But ok yes, i tried to make this as understandable as possible so if its too confusing please tell me and I'll do my best to rework it so it can be proper once and for all. I have no fricking idea how the updating schedule will be but i will do everything in my power to make it fast ;n;
> 
> Any kind of feedback or critique would be greatly appreciated!! But yes if you are here thank you for passing through and I'll do my damnest to try to have the proper first chapter up tonight too in a couple of hours. (Because this is a prologue prologue's don't count,,)

In the beginning there was Ilúvatar, the Ainur and the designs of his children. Amongst the void Ilúvatar created Eä for the dwelling of those last. Then the Ainur who desired it entered into the world at the beginning of time and became the Valar, The Powers of the World. It is by the fruit of their labors that Arda, the world, was made.

Of them there are fourteen, Seven Lords and Seven Queens:  
Manwë, Lord of Air winds and Clouds, king of the Valar.  
Ulmo, Lord of waters.  
 Aulë, lord of all substances of which Arda is made and master of all the crafts that shape it. Oromë, The huntsman of the Valar, the Great Rider.  
Mandos, The judge of the dead.  
Irmo, Master of dreams and Desires.  
Tulkas, the champion of Valinor  
Varda, Queen of the stars.  
Yavanna, Giver of Fruits, Queen of the Earth.  
Nienna, Lady of Mercy,  
Estë, The Gentle, healer of hurts and weariness.  
Vairë, The weaver.  
Vána, The ever young.  
Nessa, The dancer.

In the dawning of the world they brought order to the seas and lands and mountain and Yavanna planted the seeds in the earth. Of them a multitude of growing things arose and beasts came forth to dwell upon the land.

As time passed it came nearer and nearer to the time the children of Ilúvatar should awake, and they prepared much for the arrival of the firstborn; as Yavanna tended to the Earth and Varda kindled the stars. And amongst their light awoke the elves, and Ilúvatar gifted them with many things: for he made them the fairest of all earthly creatures, they would conceive and bring forth more beauty than all of his children and have the greater bliss in this world. To them also he granted dominion over the elements of water and air, to aid and protect them in trials to come. And so it was that the Elves came into being knowing how to tame the wild the breezes and currents to their will, instinctually aware of how to make the waters rise and fall, twist and bend. For these two elements were their gift and they wielded them with beauty and grace.

To the men, Ilúvatar gifted a will for their hearts to seek beyond the world and find no rest therein, along with the virtue to shape their life, beyond the twists of fate; another of their gifts was death, for once men pass, they leave the world, unlike the elves. Their last gift was that of the dominion over fire and water. For like the Elves they could control the waters, but aside from this they could also kindle fire from their will alone, as well as shaping it and directing it as they please. And these gifts the men wielded with power and autonomy.

Last of all Ilúvatar turned his gaze towards the children of his adoption, the dwarves, made by Aulë. Who he had made strong to endure, stone hard, fast in friendship and in enmity. As Ilúvatar looked down upon them he and his heart was moved to grant them a gift also, and unto them he gave dominion of the earth and fire. For they, like the men, could by will alone kindle flames and control them as well as move the very stone from its moorings. And this gift the dwarves used with great skill and cunning.

And such were the gifts of the children of Ilúvatar, which they were blessed with from the beginning of the world. The Valar where pleased with the children (to who them were as to kindred) and watched over them lovingly from the beginnings of their time. But among them there was one who was distressed. Yavanna feared for her creations, for the Dwarves, Elves and Men felled the trees and hunted the beasts in their need. Many bitter tears did she shed watching her creations be torn apart due to the will of others.  
Her distress was taken to Ilúvatar in prayer. Ilúvatar did have pity on her and her plight, and created the Ents to safeguard the trees. Yet while this had been a great gift, Ilúvatar saw that Yavanna was still troubled. And she said unto him many times that she was most thankful, but at last she revealed that while there where indeed guardians for the trees, there were none who could help them grow again in case all else failed, nor where there any beings to look over the beasts of the land who were hunted by all for food.

And so Ilúvatar cast his gaze upon the Earth and among his children he divined the Halflings (curious beings that had derived from men), of these Yavanna was much fond of, for they loved the earth as elves do, yet more indeed did they love all the things that grew in it and helping them develop. And he granted them the ability to make the trees and all other things in the earth grow, as well as giving them the knowledge to understand all beasts of the world. And unto them they entrusted the task of replenishing and healing the earth and looking after all animals. These gifts did the Halflings wield humbly, forever in service of all living things.

As soon as this gift was granted then Ilúvatar retired from Arda, as he felt that the world was at balance once more.

But Melkor (once the greatest of the Ainur, who had fallen from glory after defying the will of Ilúvatar) had seen the gifts Ilúvatar had granted. At once great envy arose in him and he dared to do the same to his own creatures. Who were none other than orcs (twisted, tortured and corrupted elves). To them he granted the power of darkness. The power to cloak themselves in shadow and in turn cast it over the land, instilling fear and causing death in whatever it touches.

These were the gifts granted in the beginning of the world.


	2. An Evident Solution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have the first proper chapter of this fic!!! *rolls out the confetti cannons*
> 
> I hope i managed to do all the characters justice and if not please don't hesitate to tell me how i could improve!! So yes here enjoy~

Whether by ill will or bad luck, a sickness had fallen on the mountain, and all the lands that surrounded it. Where it once had been proud and tall, the Lonely Mountain stood as a shadow of its former self. Crumbling, decrepit, with a dearth of living things for miles around, it seemed from afar almost abandoned, on the point of collapse. Had it not been for Dale (who till bustled with movement), it would have looked for all the world like a relic of times past. Indeed it had only been the trade town that had saved Erebor from complete ruin; for it was only their sharp eye for business that had managed to keep up a steady income of money and necessities for the whole region.

No longer did anything grow in the lands that surrounded the mountain, the earth was dry and grey, with large cracks that had begun to appear in the ground. The only thing that still managed to grow were scraggly, half dead bushes, as any other types of greenery had withered long ago. The farms of Dale could no longer provide any crops, nor feed any within its walls.  
At first it seemed an easy enough problem to bypass, despite the protests of the farmers. It was only a matter of trading for food instead of money in those trying times. But soon the men and dwarves of the Lonely Mountain discovered that this was quite plainly one of the worst long term solutions they had ever devised. For not even Dale and Erebor’s thriving economies could support the strain of importing all their sustenance without some dent in the treasuries.

Yet foolishly they continued on, completely disregarding the warnings around them. Until the sickness spread throughout the earth and struck into those things they held dear and necessary.  First it was the River, who for an unknown reason grew foul tasting and murky, until much sickness was caused to those who drunk from it, at times even leading to death.   
Last of all was the mountain itself and all its riches. Erebor began to collapse unto itself, and the gems and ores unearthed from its depths no longer gleamed and shimmered like they used to. For now like the earth they had grown dull and dim and grey.  
This indeed was the last the inhabitants of these lands could take. For trading for food was possible if expensive. But now they were obliged to have water shipped to them lest they fall prey to the sickness that plagued the land by drinking from the river, but worst of all was the dimming of the riches of the mountain. From which the glory of Erebor was sustained.

These were the ills that had befallen the Lands near the Lonely Mountain, and as their situation steadily worsened, so did their inhabitant’s worry and fear grow.

 

\--------------

‘Even the breeze feels dead’, thought Thorin, as a light wind rustled across the battlements of the palace, bringing with it much dust and the foul reek of the River Running. As he looked over the land, stretching, gray and lifeless as far as the eye could see, worry grew in his heart.

As crown prince of the Kingdom of Erebor (as well as a great and valiant warrior) Thorin was looked up to and respected by all. And it was to him and the rest of the royal family that all worries were piled upon as the living conditions grew worse. It was a daily occurrence for all of them to be pulled aside by some Lord or Lady enquiring about what was being done about their current situation.  
In the beginning he had been annoyed and short tempered (Thorin himself admitted he was much better suited to the harshness of battle than to the subtlety of diplomacy), and while the annoyance had not left him in its entirety; as things took a turn for the grim he could not help but let the fear and worry start to worn into his mind. It was plain to any that something was deeply wrong within the land. And ironic though it may be, the dwarrows, who could move earth and stone, at home in the earth like nowhere else, knew nothing of how things grew and therefore could not help their land when it needed them most.

Such thoughts plagued Thorin day and night, and he dwelt on the uselessness of their current knowledge and abilities as one might pick and worry a wound. For, he thought to himself with a huff, what was the use of being able to crack boulders with your bare hands when the elusive root of the problem was one who would be better understood by a common farmer?

So in face of the fact that they could do nothing (for they had tried, with no small amount of perseverance whatever remedies they could get their hands on to heal their home to no avail) Thorin merely brooded over their current plight, meditating on any possibility that might restore Erebor to its former health.

“Thorin?”  
A sharp and impatient voice enquired, not so much floating gently to the air as sounds ought to do but slicing through it as though it was a blade. “Are you up here sulking again? You know that’s not good for you. One might say that it is, in fact, utterly pathetic of you to do so brother dear.”

Thorin sighed; as any doubts towards the speaker’s identity vanished in a twinkling without him needing to turn to see her. Dís.  
For no other would dare have so much cheek to the future king of Erebor. _‘Sisters’_ He thought, bracing himself for the inevitable chewing out he was bound to receive for being gruff with whatever simpering idiot he had offended time.  
“Commonly, one at least says a brief form of greeting before beginning with the insults.” He said still resolutely looking out into the grey landscape, rather than face the sure to be fury that was his sibling on a mission of revenge for who knows what social faux pas he had committed now.

Instead of a verbal response like any sensible, well-meaning person, Dís swatted his side with her hand. Her engagement ring hand. The one with the huge pointy rock on it.  
Thorin drew back with a muffled shout “By Mahal, careful with that thing!”

“Oh don’t be such a baby! You’ve gotten stabbed before and I know this for a fact, one little hit isn’t going to bruise you!” Dís hissed, raising the hand with the accursed ring on it once more.  
“And you think this gives you right to cause me more grievous injuries? Come what have I done this time? Tell me so I may repent, and you may be satisfied sister dearest.” He said bowing with a mock solemnity.

“Thorin Oakenshield don’t you go giving me cheek now, when you’ve ran off on your own and left me to the diplomats all morning!”

“What do you mean to say? I have not left you, for there were no appointments requiring my presence today.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he knew instantly that he had said the wrong thing; for Dís’ dark eyes narrowed and blazed with indignation. “You forgot?”

“I cannot forget what I’ve not been told.”

“Unbelievable,” Dís huffed. “It’s just as well I have to do everything by myself around here, or else nothing would get done. I sent a messenger to tell you of this yesterday! I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume it is his entire fault. But if I catch wind of the subtlest hint you’re playing me for a fool you’ll have more than my ring to worry about!”

“Are we at last at peace then sister?” Thorin asked, chancing to come closer.

Dís looked at him warily for a beat of silence, but at last relented with a sigh. “Yes, yes, of course if this is really what happened.”  
“But regardless of your cruel abandonment I’ve come here to fetch you for other purposes. The council will be starting soon.”

“And you,” she said with a firm jab of her finger into Thorin’s chest “will be late,” Jab. “if you” Jab. “Dawdle any longer.”

“I suppose I must thank you then,” he said with a grateful smile, offering his arm to her as they walked away from the battlements and towards the meeting rooms.  
“I suppose you should, but if we started taking to account all the things I do for you, you would never stop thanking me so it’s best if we drop the whole issue as it is.” She said with the slyness of one who knows their words hit upon the truth of the matter.

Thorin merely smiled at her words, long used to Dís’ special brand of character. In that moment, as they walked through the crumbling halls of Erebor, he felt a deep surge of protectiveness surge over him as he looked down on her. They would make things right. He would find a way to improve upon their current troubles and make the land well again for his family and his people or he would die trying.

For, Thorin meditated, they could not stay like this much longer; Erebor’s crumbling walls had become unsafe to dwell in and with the scarcity of food and water all were forced to ration their provisions carefully. This was no way for anyone to live in the great dwarf kingdom of the lonely mountain he though with a scowl. As if things had not been bad enough they had recently begun to have a plague of vermin, rats with small beady eyes and a wiliness sufficient to avoid and escape all the clever traps and poisons the dwarves had designed for them.

“Thorin?”  
“Hmm?”  
“You’re sulking.”

“What troubles you so often these days? The conditions are not the best to be sure, but there is not much to be done about it for now and your brooding will not help.” Dís pointed out. “Or is it something else? Has father mentioned the engagement plan to you?”

At her words, Thorin more or less came to screeching, stumbling halt, both in mind and body. “Do not tell me that he has contrived to marry you off in exchange for supplies and support as if you were merely some pony to be haggled and bartered with!” He growled, indignation rising at the thought of any considering to do this to his sister, who he knew still mourned for her husband’s death. “Have they no decency! Who dares consider this?”

Dís managed to look guilty for all about three seconds before quickly composing herself. “So I take it you did not know?”

Whirling around to grasp her upper arms and give her a gentle shake, Thorin pressed on. “Who is it Dís? Tell me and I shall go put the fear of the line of Durin into them!”

“Oh please calm down it’s not like that at all. Though I suspect you will not like the truth that much better.” She said, extricating herself out of Thorin’s grasp as he had begun to shake her rather forcefully without noticing. “The person that the advisors are planning to marry off is you, not me.”

Thorin managed nothing but to stare dumbly at her for a beat of silence before blurting out a small, petulant “No.”

Dís merely gave him a sharp glare and her words needed not to be said out loud. ‘You have a duty’ her glare seemed to say. And deep down under the indignation at this strategy and the shame at his outburst he knew this to be true.

She sighed once more and took Thorin’s hand in her own. “I am sorry I was the one to reveal it to you so suddenly. But you understand, I know you do.”  
He did not respond, but pressed her hand into his, thoughts buzzing with this new unwelcome, but perhaps necessary possibility.

“We shall be late for the council if we do not hurry,” he said at last, doing his best to put it out of his mind until he had a moment of peace with which to evaluate this news. Then turning away from her and striding towards the meeting rooms.

\---------------------

The council (for this particular matter) consisted of Thráin, his host of advisors, the representatives from Dale, Thorin and Dís. Most surprising of all was the last member of the council.  
It was Gandalf. Who had arrived to Erebor just in time for the meeting (having been invited due to his great renown and knowledge as he was in the area).

The meeting had developed predictably enough, with most of the advisors and all the representatives squabbling amongst themselves over expenses while Thráin attempted to gain some measure of control.  
Thorin _hated_ politics.

Just as he was contemplating very un-princely thoughts of setting the table on fire just to get their attention and distract them from fighting amongst themselves there came the booming voice of Gandalf. “Quiet fools!”

Quiet they did, instantly and meekly, as the wizard drew to his full height and appeared to exude some dangerous, fiery aura. (It is well known throughout all Middle Earth, that wizards not only control all four elements but possess powerful magic. So when one of them bids you to do something you would listen as quickly as they did.)

“If you would stop quarreling like a throng of small children and listen to what I have to say your real problem would be solved swiftly!”  
Silence was his answer to this statement. As half of the council backed away in mute terror and the other half leaned forward for his next words eagerly.  
“The root of the issue for which this council was called together is over the matter of the sickness that plagues your lands.” Gandalf continued huffily leaning upon his staff and glaring down at them sternly from under bushy eyebrows. “There are some in this world, who have abilities that would do most nicely for this situation. If they could be persuaded to make the trip to Erebor.”

“Who do you speak of?” Thráin asked in a hushed voice.

“I am talking of course, about Hobbits.” He said, as if the very nature of his words should be self-evident and they should have all know that Hobbits (whatever they were) where to be the solution to all their problems.

A sudden puzzled silence descended upon the council until at last one brave representative managed to chance out a faltering “What exactly are Hobbits?”

Gandalf cast the whole of them some disappointed glance at their ignorance. “I am talking about, the inhabitants of a land quite a bit away, called the Shire. There dwells the race of Hobbits, also called the little people. You need not concern yourself with what Hobbits _are_ and instead start to busy yourselves with what Hobbits _do_.”

“And pray tell, what is it exactly that Hobbits do?” Asked Dís loftily voicing Thorin’s very doubts “And how could a people I’ve never heard mentioned help us with a problem that we have endeavored to fix for years without success? We have had all manner of experts parade into Erebor all claiming to be able to solve this sickness, yet they all failed in the end. What makes these Hobbits any different?”

At her words there began much muttering amongst the advisors, as the princess displayed her uncanny ability to cut through the heart of the matter most ruthlessly.

“The difference, Lady Dís, is the fact that they are no mere self-proclaimed experts of the earth. They have long been blessed with the ability to make all things in the earth grow, as well as knowing the tongue of beasts and the manner t persuaded them to do their bidding. This is a divine gift given to them in the beginning if the world; just as one was given to the elves and the men and the dwarves. They are tasked with healing the Land of its ills and could no doubt easily rid the mountain of its sickness.”

At this the whispering erupted throughout the room once more.  
Thorin glanced suspiciously at Gandalf for the solution seemed too simple and convenient and he did not dare trust such an easy way out. If anything his experiences in life had taught him that the only way anything got solved was with trial and error and much perseverance. Solutions did not magically come to be granted trough conveniently appearing wizards.

“There must be some catch,” he grumbled out at last when the whispers had subsided. “Nothing in life is free.” There were many nods as soon as he was spoken and all looked to the wizard expectantly.

Gandalf merely looked cross, and looked as if he was confounding the very existence of dwarves in the confines of his mind. “Maser Oakenshield, as I have said the only problem you shall have is in convincing these Hobbits to leave their homes. But they are quite kindly creatures and their compassion surpasses that of many. I am sure that this trait of theirs will win out in the end and they shall be most glad to assist you in any way they can.”

“If this solution was so evident why did you not come to us sooner? Why wait until the sickness is spreading and claiming lives to act?” Thorin asked and in his eyes was the light of a challenge.

“Because quite simply enough, I had not heard of the troubles of Erebor master Oakenshield.” Gandalf answered, quite plain for all to see that his patience for them was wearing thin.  “And now if you are all quite done with your questions I suggest you organize a party to visit the Shire and convince these kindly folk to lend you a hand.”

After a small, dumbfounded silence conversation erupted into being once again, as all the representatives struggled to give their opinion at the same time, as loud as they could.  
Thorin merely sighed quietly and prayed to Mahal for strength to endure the rest of the meeting. 


	3. Concerning Hobbits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wheezes* this is the longest chapter yet  
> But it probably wont be the longest over all  
> Either ways enjoy!!!

The closer they got to The Shire the more Balin stressed about their prospective meeting with the Hobbits. It was one thing to discuss what should be done when in Erebor sitting comfily on their behinds. It was quite another to be entrusted to do so.  
Balin had been chosen as the leader for the expedition to the Hobbit’s lands, having been given total authority to pick and choose his team and strategy. Many of the other advisors had scoffed at his choice of companions and plan to convince the Hobbits to make the long trek to Erebor. The general consensus had been to load up a large cart filled with gold and jewels and other beautiful things and to ride out to The Shire to temp the Hobbits with the vast wealth of Erebor.  
But the more Gandalf had talked about the Hobbits as the meeting went on, the more Balin knew this method was ill thought out and doomed to fail. He mentioned them being creatures of simple pleasures, hinting at the fact they thought little of riches and gold, disdaining the rest of the world’s dependence of such paltry things. He had known immediately and instinctively that the only thing that would convince the Hobbits would be to appeal to their basic sense of compassion.

To do this he had brought only a small chest of gold (It would be in bad taste to come with no payment. Even if he was sure the hobbits would not at all be interested in its contents) and the right sort of people. ‘The right sort of people’ being the kind that earned him many an incredulous head shake.  
His first pick had been all three of the Ri brothers (the inclusion of the infamous Nori had very nearly been vetoed by all those present when he voiced his desired party).

  
But Balin liked to think he knew what he was doing (because he usually did) and he could think of no better people to carry out this task with him. For all three of the Ri brothers had the gift of a silver tongue, though they displayed it in different ways.  
Dori was one of the few dwarves that gained his lively hood through trade, and with his gracious manner (as well as his uncanny ability to say the right thing at the right time) was able to sell almost anything to almost anyone.  
Nori whoever was not nearly so respectable as his elder brother, instead causing trouble wherever he went. As he had dedicated his efforts to all manner of shady dealings and illegal pursuits he had cultivated an observant eye, a sharp tongue and a talent for finding an exploiting all manner of weak spots. .  
Ori the youngest of the trio was a more scholarly type; who spent the majority of his time holed up in Erebor’s great library. He was more soft spoken and polite than his brothers but all manner of lovely words could be coaxed out of the lad once you got him talking. His earnest nature and poetical musings had immediately endeared him to the hearts of many.

Aside from them he had also taken Bofur and Bifur. Bofur for his easy-going, friendly nature that could not help but make many feel at ease. Bifur he had actually not planned to take, but (when pressed by Thorin) had consented that, while he did not doubt the skill of the others when it came to defending themselves, it might be best to take seasoned warrior as a precaution (one of Thorin’s past honor guard no less). One could never be too careful when traversing through the wilds.

With these companions it was that he had set out from Erebor those many months ago. As the days had passed by they drew ever closer to their destination, until on the fine morning of today they were only a couple of miles away from The Shire.  
The spirits of the party were high as they traversed rolling hills and marveled at the incredibly greenery that ran rampant over the landscape. Long had it been since any of them had seen healthy land.

No longer could they doubt Gandalf’s claims towards the Halflings’ abilities. Even the dwarves (who knew precious little of the things that grew) could see clear as day that this was beyond the realm of ordinary. The grass was impossibly bright, fields of flowers in all manner of colors had sprouted in every available space, a riotous chorus of birds sang gaily and unafraid as they walked, daring to flutter close by to them (one of them even perching itself in Bofur’s hat), many animals peered out of the forests’ edge to witness their party’s progress and above all things that permeated the atmosphere there was a quiet feeling of peace and richness, where you could almost swear you could hear the growth of the wood.

They rode through these paths in reverent silence, feeling as if they had stepped into the pages of a fairy tale. None dared speak but they all chanced to hope; because if this was what Hobbits did to the earth around them by merely existing, then they could surely mend the sickness of the mountain if they put their mind to it.

 

At last they came to their goal, The Shire spread out before them, while Balin’s anxiety increased tenfold. They led their ponies through the Hobbit’s homeland they received many a curious look, though to their surprise they were not guarded ones of distrust and distaste at foreigners (as they had grown accustomed to)  but rather ones of honest interest. Many times where they greeted and Good Morning-ed, until they had amassed a small throng of curious hobbits peering out of their doors. The whole thing began to resemble some sort of parade by the time they had reached the central village of Hobbiton to seek out the Thain. Who they wanted as the chief authority figure in the Shire who could perhaps point them in the right direction of the Hobbit willing to make the journey to Erebor.

 

 

When they had located the Thain’s house the sun was already low in the sky and the Hobbits had lost interest in them.  
It had turned out to be a rather secluded house in the edge of the town. No more than a small shanty in their eyes, where the Thains of old had conducted their affairs since time immemorial to the Hobbits. As soon as they had asked around and been assured that they finally had the right building; Balin had squared his shoulders and given a firm knock on the door.

“Yes?” A thunderous voice had shouted from inside the building. “Who goes there? If it’s you thrice damned tweens again you’ll have another thing commin’ to you if you bother to keep knocking at my door and running away!”  
At this the incredulous party of dwarves turned to look at each other with varying states of confusion at this sort of welcome.

“I know not of what you speak of.” Balin had responded at last, doing his best to remain polite. “I am Balin son of Fudin and I come here as an envoy from the great dwarf kingdom of Erebor. We would be most honored if you would do us the favor of allowing us to have council with you.”

Silence was the response to this statement, until at last they heard shuffling and cursing and the opened a crack to reveal one dark eye. “You don’t look like tweens.” Was the sole statement the Thain made after appraising them silently for a long awkward, moment.  
“That may be because we are not the tweens you speak of,” Balin answered patiently. “We are here to find some hobbits, for we are in need of your people’s talents. Perhaps we could discuss this further inside?”

“Hmmph” Harrumphed the Thain, But at last he opened the door fully, to reveal the wizened old Hobbit that had been talking to them from the other side. “Well,” he said rather waspishly, shuffling inside without waiting for them or inviting them in. “What are you waiting for fools, come and tell me of your business in these parts”

When they had finally settled inside the small space that was the Thain’s office (by a good dint of squeezing and shuffling where all but Balin had been left standing); Balin had launched into the tale of the troubles of Erebor and the need of a Hobbit who would be rewarded most handsomely for their services. The Thain appeared interested, humming and nodding at all the right parts and hissing in sympathy when Balin described the state of their living conditions.  
“Well boys,” he began in a kindly sort of voice after Balin had finished his account of the events. “That is a sad tale you all have there. But what I ask is this: Why are you telling me this, why should I care and why in Yavanna’s name have you decided to talk to _me_ about this?”

Floundering slightly at the turn of events from what had appeared to be a sympathetic listener, many dwarves where eyeing the Thain as one might eye a half dead cat that has viciously clawed you without provocation.

Balin (in the privacy of his mind) could not help but curse out the Thain just the smallest amount for making them waste their time when it had probably been plain to him from the start that he had no wish to help them at all.

“We thought that you might graciously point us in the direction of a Hobbit willing to make the journey to Erebor.” Balin said, trying to turn the conversation back to a more favorable, useful topic.

At these words the Thain looked at them blankly for a good minute and then burst into wheezing laughter that later dissolved into a wracking cough. The sound of which sent a chill through them as the situation turned more and more hopeless. “You want to take a Hobbit where?” he asked, wiping tears from his eyes. “Oh I had been told dwarrows were ignorant but I had not known to what extent! No Hobbit would dare leave his home for any journey, no matter handsomely he was rewarded! You have crossed many miles on a fool’s errand! So I bid you and your no doubt fruitless endeavors good day, now if you please, get out of my office.” The Thain said as he began ushering them outside, slamming the door in their noses as soon as he had finished talking.

They all stood staring at the door in silence all of them attempting to process how rudely they had been treated from the creatures Gandalf had described as ‘kind and hospitable’. “Right then,” Balin said in a resigned manner. “We’d best find some place to stay for the night and discuss what to do tomorrow.” Seeing their dispirited stares he did his best to try and look on the bright side of the situation, for it would not do to try and convince stubborn Hobbits to leave their homes when they were not even sure they could do it themselves. “Cheer up lads; I’m sure there’s one adventurous Hobbit in the Shire who could be tempted by the promise of a great journey and a chest full of gold!”

At these words they appeared to perk up marginally and took up their packs and the ponies to look for an Inn.

\------------------

After an hour’s search of the surrounding areas of the Shire in a mad search for an Inn they had been informed that the Shire (having a negligible amount of visitors) had no such thing. So that they’d best make some sort of camp in one of the few empty fields that dotted the land.  
Off then they went, grumbling as they unrolled their bedrolls in the cold ground and made a fire to warm themselves from the nights chill. So much for the hospitality of these Hobbits.

The next morning they rose bright and early to modify their strategy, diving themselves into two of three to tackle on the task of charming, cornering, tricking and/or intimidating the Hobbits into journeying back to Erebor with them. ‘After all’, thought Balin, remembering the Thain’s predictions, ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’. They could not return to Erebor empty handed.

By the time they regrouped in their makeshift camp at mid-day they were in drastically low spirits.  
“How did it go for you lot?” Asked Bofur, trying his best to maintain the cheer through his bright and hopeful tone.  
“Let’s just say it’s not the first time I’ve had doors slammed in my face and it won’t be the last” answered Nori, effectively dashing his hopes that the other group had had at least more luck than them.  
“These Hobbits are dreadfully, rudely sassy for such small creatures,” grumbled Dori, still sore from the appalling treatment they had received today.  
News had quickly spread of their purpose, and the Hobbits’ previously friendly behavior had vanished in a flash, replaced by a cold and cutting sort of aloofness as soon as any of them approached them.

“Come now,” said Balin doing his best to think of anything that might help them be successful in their endeavor. “Perhaps we just have to redouble our efforts and think before we talk.”

This cheered them slightly once more (for Balin was wisest among them and seldom wrong), they talked long amongst themselves and decided to tackle the farmers (who were bound to know more about the subject of good earth and its nuances) plying them with gold in hopes that they would be convinced to accompany them.

This again proved unsuccessful. They spent almost a week in such plans, varying their strategy and ‘plan of attack’ in a myriad of ways until they had nearly exhausted every possibility and where very much at the end of their rope.  
‘A Plague upon Hobbits’ Bifur had signed to them after their third consecutive night of being out in an downpour of rain; very much wet, cold and still Hobbit-less. And the group broke into hearty agreements and other more creative curses upon the stubborn Halflings.  
Balin merely signed, giving up on the idea of denying them the outlet to their frustrations.

This was how Gandalf found them a few hours later, damp and dirty and still cheerfully suggesting all manner of misfortunes on Hobbits, ranging from constipation to ugly spouses.   

The wizard had not taken kindly to their jesting and had given them a most stern glare as he walked into their midst at the exact same moment that Nori was acting out exactly what he thought should happen to the woman who had set their geese on them as soon as they had knocked on her door.  
“If you are all quite done with your petty discussions, I should like to know if you have been successful in all the time you’ve been here?”

There was a moment of silence as all the dwarves felt rather like children with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar; until they remembered this was the man who had led them here and was therefore the cause of all their misfortunes. At that exact moment, they all burst out talking and complaining at once advancing upon Gandalf in a torrent of indignant dwarven fury.

“Quiet!” Gandalf roared over their din. The dwarves at once quieted, though they did so rather moodily and with no small amount of resentment present on their faces. “Now, if you would please tell me what on Earth have you done to warrant such a cold reception from these good Hobbits I might be able to help you. So go on at once and _one at a time_ tell me your accounts of what has happened to you ever since you have arrived in the Shire.”  
With a sigh Balin began their recount of how they had done nothing wrong, merely talked to the Thain (who had been the first in a long line of many rude greetings) and done their best to convince the Hobbits to help them to no avail.  
“Hmm,” muttered Gandalf to himself, puffing away at his pipe meditatively. “It seems these Hobbits are much more wary of the world since I left them last. I did not expect them to react so badly and for that you have my most sincere apologies.” At these words the dwarves relaxed marginally nodding along to his words with a stern look upon their faces. “But,” continued Gandalf as soon as he sensed they had been appeased some. “You have gone about this all wrong from the start. You’ve been asking the wrong sort of Hobbits all along. Now it would do you good for all of you to get some rest. And I shall show you the kind of Hobbit you have been after all along in the morning.”

At last after an uncomfortably moist sleep and a scant breakfast (provisions were running low) Gandalf bid all of them to get up and follow him.  
Follow him they did, turning this way and that, chasing a path unknown to them, until at last they came to the skirts of one of the larger hills in the area. “Ah, here we are,” mumbled Gandalf, seemingly to himself, as he came to a sudden halt. “Now you must all do exactly as I say.” He said shooting them a warning look over their shoulder. “We are about to come upon Bag End residence of Bilbo Baggins, a good friend of mine and quite possibly the only Hobbit in all of the Shire that could be persuaded to accompany you in this moment. If you heed my words, you shall come out of this venture successful, now come, carry on and for heaven’s sakes do not speak till I tell you to!”

With this last warning he presently began walking again and rounded the bend of the hill they were on, finally giving them the view of their destination.  
The first thing that met their eyes was the Hobbit lass upon the steps leading up to Bag End sweeping them rather vigorously. And for one incredulous second many of them wondered ‘ _Is this Bilbo Baggins?’_ or _‘Is Bilbo a feminine name among Hobbits?’_  
It was with these thoughts that they took her in, scrutinizing her every inch believing her to be the salvation Gandalf had promised them long ago. So they measured her (and as all Hobbits had done so far) she fell short of their hopes. For this lass looked nothing like what they imagined to be a powerful being, one capable of restoring their mountain to its former glory. The thing they needed so desperately.  
She was instead a scrawny thing, little brown hands clasping the broom tightly as dark eyes watched them suspiciously as they trudged their way up the hill, made all the darker against the riotous mass of golden curls streaming from her head to her hips in long waves.  “Hello,” Gandalf began in far kinder tone that they had ever seen him take. “We are looking for Bilbo Baggins, we’d be much obliged if you would fetch him for us, as we have some pressing business to attend to with him.”

These words, meant to relax the girl, did nothing but put her on her guard once more, making her drop the broom and plant her feet apart, extending her hands loosely in front of her, palms flat,  in what the dwarves found to be the most ineffectual defensive position they had seen in all of their lives. They could not hope to hold in their amusement in face of such a situation. For the girl stood before them resolute, looking for all the world like a queer, golden doll up on that doorstep. Far too delicate a being to be acting in such a way. As if she hoped (with her bare hands) to defend the whole of Bag End on her own against seasoned fighters.

Faced with this, the majority of the dwarves burst into muffled laughter, ‘till Bofur called out a cheeky “You’d best put those down ‘fore you yerself lass!” at which many of them could no longer hold back their mirth.  
At this, Gandalf had scarcely managed to shoot them a dirty look when the girl flicked her wrist in response and out of the bushes of Bag End burst a vine that, shot out towards Bofur’s feet quick as lightning, winding tight around both his ankles in the blink of an eye. The dwarves had scarcely noticed her actions when the girl flicked her wrist again, and the vine wound around Bofur’s feet gave a sharp jerk forward, sending him sprawling to the floor and taking Bifur and Nori with him due to his flailing.

When all of them had made the connection that the girl they had mocked had been the one to control the creeper, they suddenly fell silent, regarding her with newfound wariness. A sickly sweet, mocking smile erupted upon her face at finding them so cowed in their surprise. She shifted one more, more whip-like vines erupting out of nowhere with a wave of her arms. They twisted and coiled around her like snakes, winding down the steps of Bag End and creeping towards them ominously. As soon as they found the plants heading towards them once more, all dwarves scrambled for their weapons, arranging themselves in a defensive formation.

“Put those down!” Roared the aggravated Gandalf, who knew with a certainty that comes from experience that the girl would not attack them unless provoked again. “Now Miss, there’s no need for that. I am Gandalf, an old friend of Bilbo’s. We are simply here to visit him, no more” He said, his hands held out in front of him in a gesture of ‘peace’.

At the mention of his name the girl relaxed her stance and the plants stopped crawling towards them. Emboldened by the small victory, Gandalf stepped forwards towards the steps of Bag End, talking slowly and calmly, with a tone one might use on a spooked horse. “If you would just call upon him he will confirm what I have said. That I often come to visit him bringing friends.”  
She looked on them twice as suspiciously as before, weighing his statement. But at last, she slid out of her stance and the plants retreated back into the bushes.

She jabbed her finger towards them, and then towards the floor with a stern look on her face. A ‘You. Stay’ that did not need to be spoken to be understood; retreating back into the house and leaving them all standing in the front steps for a minute or two.  
At last they heard a voice drifting out of the half open front door saying something that sounded suspiciously like ‘ _What do you mean Dwarves_?’. Till at last the door swung open wider and alongside the girl out came another Hobbit, this time older and decidedly male. He eyed them no less suspiciously than her though and did not seem to respond to Gandalf all that favorably. “Oh no,” he mumbled, briefly covering his face with ink stained fingers. “Gandalf. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this time?” He asked not looking very pleased at all.

“Come Bilbo, is that any way to greet an old friend?” Asked Gandalf with a beaming smile.

“It is when they leave you alone among strangers when you are wounded and unconscious with the excuse that you need to attend to ‘pressing businesses.”

“Ah yes,” said Gandalf, at least having the decency to look ashamed when faced with such accusations. “That was a terrible oversight on my part dear friend. But please do not hold it against me. I will apologize as many times as you wish! But I implore you to hear me out on what I have to say this time.”

The Hobbit, who they (rightly this time) thought to be Bilbo gave a weary sigh and at last gave Gandalf a small, fond smile. “You’re a terrible friend. But I suppose I do forgive you. Why don’t you and your companions come in, seeing as it’s nearly time for second breakfast?”

At this long awaited chance to have their proposition heard by at least one single hobbit the dwarves eagerly trooped into Bag End.  
Not much could have prepared for the sight that met them inside.  
While Bag End appeared from the outside as common as every other Hobbit hole they had visited, the inside was not. As soon as they stepped in they marveled at the disarray that met their eyes, the books and parchment strewn about everywhere; but mostly they marveled at the plants. For they grew out of every available crevice, winding over heaps of tomes, curling around bookcases, end tables and flowering in the most unorthodox of locations (they saw daisies in an abandoned tea pot, baby’s breath growing in the cracks of the ceiling, grass overtaking the wooden floors until they could not see them anymore).

As soon as they were done marveling at the plants they began to notice the animals that hid within the foliage. There were untold groups of them clustering about watching them nervously from their hiding places; ranging from skunks and rabbits to foxes and sheep. As they passed by open rooms they saw many queer things, but chief among them they marveled at the wolf curled up in the hearth of what looked like a study, resting peacefully next to speckled fawn that all but cuddled up to its side in blatant disregard of the workings of nature’s food chain.

“Here we are. Please, make yourselves comfortable!” Said the Hobbit, gesturing to the spacious dining table he had led them to. “Marigold,” he called, and the girl from the doorstep materialized behind them quite suddenly, starling Ori so much he gave a small jump. “Would you please start making the preparations for second breakfast? I’ll be along as soon as I can to help you.” She nodded once and was off towards the kitchens, leaving them alone with their host for the first time.

“Now, it seems we have not been properly introduced.” He said with a polite smile. “I am Bilbo Baggins.”

There was a stretch of silence before they all remembered their manners and began introducing themselves as well, each with a chorus of at-your-service-s. Bilbo greeted them each individually and made sure they were each situated at the table before bustling off to help Marigold with second breakfast.

“Well,” said Dori with a sniff, as soon as Bilbo had cleared the room. “It’s a relief to find someone out in this Mahal forsaken region has some manners after all.”

Soon enough Bilbo exited the kitchen laden with trays and plates, followed by Marigold (both of them preforming an impressive balancing act by carrying the trays not only in their arms, but also on their heads.)  What seemed to them a great feast after the rationing of Erebor was laid before them. All of it simple yet good food, they ate heartily filling themselves as they had not a chance to for many a year. The conversation was light and airy, the dwarves soon relaxing in the face of the kindness and hospitality Gandalf had promised them long ago.

They soon dropped all pretense of manners and began eating as their rowdy selves are wont to do. Which nearly gave Bilbo a conniption fit, that was stopped in its tracks by a sharp look from Gandalf that reminded him that: firstly – these were guests; and secondly – that Bilbo with his books and plants and dirt was capable of just as much mess; even if it was displayed in a different manner.

After a few more minutes of pleasant talk the Dwarves helped Bilbo clear the table in their own terrifying way, sending the plates flying this way and that; while they whirled about and sang.

At last they had all settled down in the parlor, crammed into sofas and chairs until at last they were all moderately comfortable. “Well, now that we’ve all unwound a bit; tell me Gandalf for what purpose have you visited and what is it that you want me to hear?” Bilbo asked glancing at them suspiciously once more.

“I see you have not forgotten the urgency of my words Bilbo. It is good for you to do so. These are the dwarves of Erebor and they come here seeking help in their hour of need.” Said Gandalf Solemnly, gesturing for Balin to explain the situation.  
Balin once more launched into the account they had given to all hobbits previously, stressing the direness of Erebor’s and Dale’s situation.

“Oh,” said Bilbo as soon as Balin had finished. “Well that’s an uncomfortable situation to be sure. Have no other Hobbits offered to help you?”

“Few have even bothered to hear us out as you did, and most slammed the door in our face after a while. None have been so hospitable as you.” Said Balin, hoping that a little flattery might not go astray in this situation.  
But Bilbo did not appear to notice the compliment as he was deep in thought.  
“Well, I think you’ve been asking the wrong sort of people is all. Have you asked any Tooks? They’re marvelously unrespectable in that way and dearly love adventures when they can have them!” Bilbo aid this earnestly enough with a pensive look on their face and even if he had not offered to aid them, his information about Tooks was more help than they had received from anyone so far, and they were grateful.

But this apparently was the wrong thing to say. For as soon as Bilbo had mentioned Tooks and (in his own subtle way) declined their offer, Gandalf stood up to his imposing height and with a steely tone in his  voice asked Bilbo if they would please go to another room so they might speak alone?

The dwarves were left alone to their own devices; as they tried their best to pretend that that couldn’t hear the arguing going on in the adjacent room. That is, the sound of both Gandalf and Bilbo’s voices overlap each other, fighting for the upper hand, until the whole thing culminated in a sound that could only be described as a small explosion and Bilbo stumbled out of the smoking room coughing frantically and Gandalf followed, looking entirely too smug.

“Alright, alright!” Said Bilbo shrilly as soon as he had gotten his breath back. “I’ll do it, you meddling wizard! So you can stop poking me with your staff!”  
The Dwarves gave out a rousing cheer as soon as these words left his mouth and they all crowded around Bilbo, shaking his hand and patting his back with such vigor that they nearly knocked him off his feet.

They did not stop congratulating him in a good long while, nor promising he would not regret it. At last they all filed out of Bag End in the afternoon, their spirits much higher than when they had entered it; leaving Bilbo and Gandalf alone together in the parlor. “You know it is considered rude to threaten someone into partaking in adventures?” Said Bilbo rather snappishly once he had no witnesses to see him mouthing off to a wizard.

“This Bilbo Baggins was for your own good,” insisted Gandalf in a sage and serious manner that belied the amused twinkle in his eyes. “Yes well you didn’t need to sit down in that armchair and refused to get out of my house until I accepted,” pointed out Bilbo. “Honestly I rather expected more out of a wizard such as yourself; sinking down to such tactics.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, you have been shut up in here with your books for far too long. It will do you some good to see the world again”

Bilbo sighed and threw up his hands in defeat. He had learned long ago that Gandalf was insufferable when he believed himself to be in the right.

\--------------------------

Next morning Bilbo rose bright and early, through no choice of his own, when the small fawn he had rescued some months ago contrived to jump onto his bed and lick him into wakefulness. “Fine,” he groaned, sitting up and bidding good bye to the last vestiges of sleep.  “You want food don’t you? This is the reason you woke me up you conniving little bastard.”

The disjointed thoughts of the young fawns mind came into his own, naturally and easily as the thoughts of animals always came to him. “Yes, yes, yes!” The fawn thrilled. Scrambling to maintain its footing in the lumpy bed. “I am ever so hungry!”  
“Alright up we get.”  
Reluctantly he rolled out of bed with a yawn and began his morning routine of feeding the small battalion of animals housed in Bag End and looking over all of the plants. “Hmm, Roses are looking a bit peaky.” He mumbled to himself as he stroked the browning petal of the white roses currently housed in a spare trunk that had been repurposed into an over large flower pot. “Don’t you worry now though. I’ll have you all better in a few seconds.”  
 He waved his hand over the wilting flowers and their drooping stems perked up, their petals gleaming white once more.

After these duties were complete, Bilbo took a few moments to despair the thought of the death of his perfectly lovely, perfectly peaceful lifestyle. He would be meeting with the dwarves today afternoon to plan his journey to Erebor to fulfill a task he did not even know if he could complete. He groaned heartily, slumping down on the floor, burying his face in the fur of one of his oldest companions. A fox by name of Arassel, who was twice as wily and thrice as smart as any being he’d met thus far.

“Oh do stop sulking.” She told him, nipping at his arm with her sharp teeth. “The wizard was right. It will do you good to get out of your den more often.”

“I don’t care if it’s good for me. I am perfectly comfortable here with all of you.” Said Bilbo petulantly.

“A sign that this is all the better for you,” she told him; burying her wet, snuffly nose in his curls in an attempt at comfort. 

This was how Frodo found him later on, curled up next to a bookcase. Holding Arassel like a child cuddles a favorite toy.  
“Uncle?” He began cautiously, long knowing to expect the unexpected when it came to his caretaker.  
“Oh, hello my dear boy,” mumbled Bilbo, his words muffled by masses of red fur.  
“What is the matted with him now?” He asked with a small smile, suspecting that Bilbo was being rather over dramatic again.  
“The usual,” she responded. “He is acting like a kit again; all because Gandalf has come to uproot him once more for another adventure, though I do admit this one looks bigger than the last.”

“An adventure?” Frodo asked excitedly. “When has this happened and why do I not know about it?” He asked Arassel with a laugh.  
“Because doubtless you were off cavorting with Samwise Gamgee at the time those dwarves where here.”  
“We do not cavort! Sam was helping me lug all my supplies up the hill. Which took us the better part of the day.”  
“You are telling me that you spent the whole day observing Samwise lugging things up a hill? That sounds rather like cavorting to me,” she said with a sly look at Frodo.  
“Oh hush you meddlesome Fox!” He protested, trying to look cross and failing miserably.

Arassel looked as if she was about to respond, when she stopped and cocked her head to the side with a flick of her ears. “The Gaffer comes up the hill,” she said slipping out of Bilbo’s grasp and heading for the door.

“Hamfast?” said Bilbo, breaking his moody silence due to surprise. “Why on earth would he be here this early in the morning?” He wondered out loud, scrambling up to open the door.  
“Frodo has Sam stayed over again?”

“Not at all, he went home yesterday as soon as he was done helping me.” Replied Frodo, just as puzzled as Bilbo was. Hamfast was of course a dear friend to them after all these years, but he rarely came calling without a purpose and never at this time.

”Hamfast!” Bilbo cried upon opening the door. “It is you! Come in, come in, I have not seen you in a long time I fear!”

“Hello Mr. Baggins, Mr. Frodo” he greeted, the grim look in his face suggesting there was a most unpleasant purpose for this strange visit.

“He reeks of anxiety.” Arassel commented blithely, looking on at the new arrival from the shadows.  
“Hush you!” Bilbo hissed at her, as he took Hamfast’s coat from him.  
“She sayin’ queer things again?” Hamfast asked looking warily in her direction. “It unnerves me when she looks at me so Mr. Baggins. Feels like she’s judging you from head to toe.”  
Bilbo laughed nervously choosing not to share Arassel’s comments.  
“Humans,” she sniffed, scampering off to some dark corner of the house.  
  
As with most other races the blessings of Hobbits were usually split evenly amongst individuals, with some having the ability of plants (such as Hamfast did) or the ability to converse with animals (such as Frodo did). It was rarer, but certainly not unheard of, to find someone who had both gifts in equal measure (as Bilbo did). Arassel took full advantage of the fact that Hamfast could not understand her to shoot little untoward comments whenever she pleased.

The three of them moved to the kitchen where Bilbo quickly set a kettle to boil, laying out some biscuits for them to snack on while they waited for tea. They conversed about the usual pleasantries for a while: Bilbo’s translations, Hamfast’s children, Frodo’s progress in moving all his painting supplies to the little shack he had built to house them and other such things. It had taken until the tea had been ready and they each of them had a cup for Hamfast to get to the real purpose of his visit.

“I’ve heard about those dwarves that came to visit you Mr. Baggins,” he began at last in a rough sort of voice. “They’ve been vistin’ almost everyone around these near parts. I heard they been offerin’ a chest full’a gold for anyone foolish enough to take ‘em up on their offer.”  
“I do believe they mentioned something about that yesterday,” Bilbo said cautiously.  
“So it’s true then?” Said Hamfast, looking up at them sharply.  
“Hamfast if you don’t mind my asking; why are you interested?” Frodo questioned, gazing curiously at the old Hobbit’s sudden concern over gold, which he had disdained for most of his life.

He sighed, the air blowing out of him in one large gust until he looked, grey faced and deflated in body and soul. “You see, ever since Bell,” here he paused, working hard to swallow past the lump in his throat that never went away, never mind how many years went by. “Ever since Bell passed, we’ve been neck deep in debt to cover all the medical bills we got left with. It’s not so hard a strain now that most of me children are married off. But, I know I’ll never be able to pay it off as long as I live. Not with what I’m earnin’ now. I don’t want to pass off than strain to all the children. I’d rather pay it off in one go, even if it means a bit o’ discomfort.”

“Hamfast you can’t possibly,” Bilbo began, guessing at his purpose before he revealed it.

“Aye, you’ve guessed it Mr. Baggins. It rather take those dwarves’ money and pay off the debt once and for all than leave it; even if it means leavin’ my home. I know they’ve come to you already, and I know they couldn’t possibly pick a better person for what they need Mr. Baggins. But all I’m askin’… all I’m askin’ is, if you might put in a good word for me. So they’ll leastways consider takin’ me as well.”

Bilbo took a deep breath, the injustice of the situation cutting him right to the quick. He had known the Gamgees for years, several of them being under his employment. They were a kind, hard-working, loyal and honest people. It was his private opinion that you could find no finer Hobbit’s even if you journeyed throughout the entirety of the Shire. He had tried to subtly offer various times to offer his long-time friend alternative ways to pay the debts that had piled up because of Bell’s constant sickness, but Hamfast would not hear of it, thinking of it like charity. It had taken a long time to convince him to allow both Marigold and Sam to come under his employment, as he considered that the pay was too high for the menial jobs Bilbo had them do.

“I can do more than that Hamfast. I am sure I convince those Dwarves to take you on the journey as well. It is the least I could do for you old friend.” He said at last.

Hamfast’s face crumpled into visible relief. “I cannot tell you what it means to me Mr. Baggins. You’ve both been nothin’ but kind to us over the years. I swear I’ll find a way to repay you this favor.” He said fervently.

“Hamfast; I have a question.” Said Frodo, looking resolutely down at his cup. “That is not the only reason you are leaving the Shire. Is it?”

Hamfast looked staggered for a second before chuckling to himself wryly. “I’ll never again doubt that Sam when ‘e says it’s like you’ve got a pair ‘o eyes that can stare tight though yer mind. You’re right Mr. Frodo, that’s not the only reason I’m leavin’ the Shire and I recon I owe you the whole truth since yer doin’ this fer me.” At these words he looked down into his cup with a far off look in his eyes. “I just can’t stay here anymore. It’s been seven years. And everythin’ still reminds me of her. I see me wife in the flowers and the birds, in the bed we used to share, the fields she used to tend, the grass she once stepped on, the stars she looked at long ago. It’s got me near mad with grief. Her ghost follows me in every corner of the Shire. They told me grief gets easier as time goes by. I reckon that must be fer other folks. For me it’s only gotten harder. If I stay here, that sadness gonna chew me up and swallow me whole. As much as it pains me, I’ve got to leave the Shire, Mr. Frodo, I’ve got to.”

Bilbo and Frodo sat across from him, floored beyond belief at the grief tangible and real in his voice. Grief he had managed to hide so well for so long.

“If this is truly how you feel old friend, then rest assured I can do this for you. You have my word.” Bilbo said solemnly. “Would you be going on this journey alone?”

“I’d rather it be that way, but I reckon it’s not possible. Sam an’ Goldie’ll have to come with me. I’ve talked it over with them yesterday and they’re both willin’ to make the trek.”

“I’ll be sure to include the fact that they’re non-negotiable” Bilbo quipped with a weak smile.

“Thank ye for yer hospitality Mr. Baggins.” Said Hamfast, taking his leave from the table. They both accompanied him to the door and waved him off as he slowly made his way down the hill to Bag Shot Row.

“I was intending to leave you behind when I embarked upon this madcap adventuring business. But I suppose that now that Sam’s going that won’t be possible at all.” Bilbo said at last as the figure of Hamfast was lost to the rolling hills of the Shire.

“Not a chance uncle.” Frodo said cheerfully turning to him with a winning smile. “You’d best hurry to meet those dwarves and inform them they’re getting five Hobbits for the price of one.”

“Don’t remind me,” Bilbo groaned as the reality of the situation caught up to him once again.

\-------------------

Informing the dwarves of this development went surprisingly better than expected. They seemed positively over joyed that they would be leaving the Shire with four hobbits proficient in the things that grow, and one extra who could talk with any beast that crossed their path.

They informed Bilbo of their schedule (they would be leaving in three days), the necessities they should pack for the journey and all other sorts of helpful advice for life on the road.

Soon enough (much too soon for Bilbo’s tastes) the three days were up and they were packed and ready to go, having made all arrangements possible for their journey. Five new ponies had been purchased from wherever they could obtain them, the keys to their houses where handed off to the Thain for safe-keeping (the day Lobelia had a chance to get her claws on a key to Bag End was the day she would pry it out of Bibo’s cold, dead hands). The morning passed by in a hazy rush and before Bilbo knew it he was on pony back and riding out the borders of the Shire.

“What in Yavanna’s name has Gandalf coerced me into this time?” He wondered to himself as he saw the Shire grow smaller and smaller with every step they took.  
He was so utterly consumed in this line of thinking that he barely noticed a firm presence in his mind calling for his attention. Until a flash of red streaked by their sides, winding through the ponies legs and clambering into his lap with a flying leap that surprised him so much he nearly fell off his mount.

“How dare you!” Arassel snarled, doing her best to raise her hackles and look menacing while curled up in Bilbo’s lap. “If you thought you were going to leave me in this place once more while you gallivanted off who knows where you have another thing coming!”

“I did not think it safe for you to come!” Bilbo stammered, fumbling for an answer in the face of her fury.  
This scene earned him many strange looks from the dwarves, as to them it looked like a Fox had clambered onto Bilbo’s lap and released a series of indignant yips. To which Bilbo had responded in turn with some rather odd sounding barks. This of course was Fox language, which made absolutely no sense to any of them but Bilbo and Frodo. The end result being that they both looked rather comical, conversing with Arassel through a myriad of strange noises.

Nori trotted up behind Bifur and Bofur and twirled his index finger in a circle before releasing a small whistle. This made the two of them collapse into hearty laughter, for this was common dwarven way of saying you were completely cracked in the head.

Bilbo and Frodo paid them no mind, focusing their attentions on the indignant Fox instead.

Amongst all the confusion nobody but Sam and his sister noticed the little red Robin that had perched itself on her shoulder. “Hullo again” he whispered to the bird. Who gazed at him out of one beady eye and gave a small chirp of acknowledgement. “It’s an awful big trip we’re makin’. You sure you wanna come along Mr.Robin?”

It merely chirped again, fluttering over to accommodate itself in Sam’s head and give it a small, loving peck. “Alright then,” Sam said with a smile, urging the pony onwards, towards the great unknown. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok a few things now that we're done with the chapter:
> 
> A couple of things will be explained net chapter but for the curious here's an advance and some other bonuses from now - 
> 
> The abilities of the hobbits are as follows -  
> Hamfast - Plants  
> Bilbo - Plants and animals  
> Frodo - Animals  
> Sam - Plants  
> Marigold - Plants
> 
> each dwarves corresponding abilities are
> 
> Nori - Fire  
> Dori - Fire  
> Ori - None (sort of)  
> Bofur - Earth  
> Bifur - Earth  
> Balin - Earth
> 
> The reason the Hobbits were so unfriendly and distant to the dwarves is because they've been having troubles with strangers as of late. (people who pretend to be needy travelers and the rob you blind as soon as you let them step foot inside your house.) 
> 
> Most animals can understand laguages other than their own if it is taught to them. Arassel and the Robin for example have been taught westron. (But bilbo speaks to Arassel in the fox speech often as he knows she prefers it) 
> 
> If you are wondering who the Robin is, it was the companion of none other than Bell, mourning her greatly and looks after her children and husband as fiercely as its little body will allow. 
> 
> Bilbo's previous friendship with Gandalf comes from an adventure they had long ago. Where Bilbo journeyed to Rivendell to help them with a rather troublesome wolf problem (They're nice creatures honest. Just misuderstood). 
> 
> I have taken the liberty of fixing that pesky life span issue of dwarves vs hobbits bc if you're gonna fuck with canon you might as well go all the way right???
> 
> Dwarves live to be approximately 300 years old on average and Hobbits live to be 250. 
> 
> The Ages of some of the characters are as follows -  
> Thorin - 160  
> Bilbo - 110  
> Frodo - 32  
> Sam - 20  
> Marigold - 17
> 
> (I had to do math for that shit ur damn right that im gonna publish this useless ass information.)


End file.
